


I had a dream that you were with me

by house0fstark (hellodestroya)



Series: Sleeping to Dream [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:02:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodestroya/pseuds/house0fstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place after the Shadow takes its victim. Spoilers abound from here on out.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I had a dream that you were with me

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the Shadow takes its victim. Spoilers abound from here on out.

When Loras slept, he dreamed. And when he dreamed, Renly visited him. Sometimes, when he woke he would count the hours down when sleep would be upon him again and he could see his King again. It was a beautiful dream, and waking up was painful. Sometimes, he woke up and felt his face wet and sticky with tears. Sometimes, he awoke to anger. “Get out of my head! Leave me be! Go away! Is it not enough to plague my every waking thought? You must also torture me while I sleep? Leave me alone!” He had raged once, ripping apart his bedding, glass shattering against cold stone walls, platters and armor clattering to the ground. 

He had scratched at his own eyes, trying to remove the image of Renly from behind his lids. He had only stopped when hands had wrapped around his wrists, pried the stag pendant from his bleeding hands where it’s fierce antlers had cut his palm. He had only stopped when he turned to pound his fists against whoever tried to stop his fury and he met his sisters soft chest. He only stopped when he saw her face, when he realized it was she who took the blows from his fists and held fast to his arms. She had loved the idea of Renly, loved him as a woman loves her King, loved him for the King he would of been, but she did not feel this numbing despair that Loras felt. It ate at him, took away his appetite and his smile. 

The pendant had clattered to the ground and he had suddenly been drained. Limp, he fell against her, and she brought them both to their knees, wrapping her arms around him. She held his bloody hands and kissed his self inflicted wounds, superficial scratches under his pretty eyes. They had been on the run and she had watched her little brother steel himself against the grief. He had been fierce, but silent and calm, dangerously calm. As she held him, she had listened to him cry, the fury gone, leaving on desperate sadness in its wake. She was no longer Margaery Baratheon, but she had taken the pendant and tucked it against her breast under the heavy cloth of her dress. 

“Ours is the Fury.” She had whispered against her brothers curls. Strong, stoic, collected, she sat with him. He had cried until his throat was raw and his head throbbed and his voice was ruined. When he had finally found the will to speak, it had been but a whisper. “I love him. I love him and he is never coming back. I love something that does not exist and never will again. He will always be my King. I love him. I love him. I love him, sister, he was mine. He was mine and I was his and I wish I had never known him.” He had just chanted it again and again like a mantra and she had stroked his hair and whispered, “Long live King Renly Baratheon. Long live the King.”


End file.
